Incentive
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Then Ryosuke tips his head, and his eyes focus on Haruichi's face, and his smile ceases to matter at all." Ryosuke offers congratulations on Haruichi making first string.


Haruichi doesn't have any expectations. There is a quiver of hope left in him, a tiny flame of desperation he can't bring himself to entirely blow out, but he has replayed the last conversation with Ryosuke over and over in his head until he has it memorized, until he can call up every detail, every tiny implication of word and gesture and avoidance until it's bone-deep in him. So he doesn't have any expectations, doesn't linger for approval he won't get, just collects his joy at making first-string and heads back to his dorm to let the frantic delight wear itself into steadier plausibility.

He's nearly back when the question comes from over his shoulder.

"Running away from your congratulations?"

Haruichi didn't hear footsteps, can't imagine how Ryosuke could possibly have made it out here ahead of him. He left his brother back with the rest of the team, knew exactly where Ryosuke was in the room (far in the corner, his back to Haruichi, laughing with two of his - their - teammates) when he slipped out. But when he turns it's not surprise he feels but relief, heavy gratitude flooding his limbs with shaky pleasure so when he turns, his hands are trembling, when he speaks "Aniki" comes out as breathless as if he's been running.

Ryosuke doesn't look breathless at all. He's leaning on the wall, the constancy of his faint smile curling the corners of his mouth so Haruichi can't be entirely sure there's any more pleasure there than there usually is, isn't certain Ryosuke is smiling at _him_ in particular any more than at his own internal thoughts.

Then Ryosuke tips his head, and his eyes focus on Haruichi's face, and his smile ceases to matter at all.

"Come here," he says and Haruichi moves, steps forward like he's on a string, like Ryosuke is pulling him towards him with words alone, without even needing the motion of a finger to beckon him closer. Ryosuke doesn't move back, doesn't even turn his head to look away; he keeps watching Haruichi, tips his chin up slightly as the other draws nearer so Haruichi is surprised, as he always is, to realize he has the advantage of height.

"You made it." Ryosuke's words are soft, so gentle Haruichi thinks he might be being mocked, but the shadows in his brother's eyes are fixed on him, truly focused as he has dreamed of for the last weeks, and he'll take the threat of mockery for that.

"Aniki." Haruichi's voice sounds like he's on the verge of tears. He's not sure he's _not_, not actually sure what he's feeling amidst the rush of adrenaline in his blood. "I caught up."

Ryosuke's smile jumps wider, his smirk cracking into real amusement too fast to give any warning for the bubbling laugh that spills into the silence. Haruichi jumps at the sound, the way it echoes uncomfortably loud off the high walls around them; his heart is still pounding rushed with panic when Ryosuke's hand lands on his shoulder and everything goes still and endless.

"You haven't caught me." Ryosuke's smile is back in place, only the sharp curve at one corner of his mouth left to attest to the peal of amusement at Haruichi's expense. "There's still miles for you to go, Haruichi."

Haruichi doesn't speak. He's not sure he could speak if he tried, isn't sure the words would come even if he knew what he wanted to say. The tremble of anticipation is gone, grounded out on Ryosuke's fingers along with any sense of time passing. It could be a second, a minute, a lifetime they've been standing here, with the weight of his brother's hand on the shoulder of his uniform, with the shadows in his brother's eyes collecting against his own features. Haruichi isn't sure he's breathing, can't tell if he needs to breathe; he's just existing, waiting for something as-yet-unformed to coalesce in Ryosuke's eyes.

He doesn't pull away when Ryosuke leans in. Haruichi doesn't know if it's that he's half-expecting it, or that he's truly not expecting anything at all and therefore can't be surprised. It's certainly not that Ryosuke moves quickly; his lean is syrupy-slow, as if he's being sure to give Haruichi plenty of time to jerk back. Haruichi watches the motion, the flicker of Ryosuke's tongue absently wetting his lower lip and the faint hiss of breath as the other boy inhales, and he doesn't pull back. He's shutting his eyes in anticipation while Ryosuke's are still open, still fixed on his face. He doesn't know if Ryosuke closes his eyes at all, only has a moment to wonder before his brother's mouth brushes against his and that stops being important along with everything else.

It's light, at first, a brief skimming friction of lips on lips. There's the heat of skin-to-skin contact, borrowed moisture from the damp curve of Ryosuke's mouth, and then it's gone, the heat and pressure both, and Haruichi is sucking in a sharp breath that tastes like nostalgia on his tongue. He's mid-inhale when Ryosuke cuts him off again, when the other boy's mouth is against his again but harder, this time, pushing so Haruichi responds in kind before he can think. The hand at his shoulder is still holding him steady, he can feel the faint gust of Ryosuke's exhale against his cheek, and then there's warm pressure against the unthinking part of his lips. Haruichi lets his mouth open wider under Ryosuke's urging, offers up the invitation to match the silent request, and for a moment he's rewarded with the heat of Ryosuke's tongue gliding over his, the other boy tracing out the lines of his mouth as slowly and thoroughly as if they'd never done this before at all. It has all the deja-vu uncanniness of years-old memory, the heat and the taste and the feel all reminding Haruichi of when he was younger, his body smaller and his thoughts brighter, when the constant need for recognition was sometimes, still, filled by a glance or a smile or a word from his big brother instead of a perpetual motivating ache.

Ryosuke pulls away too soon, while Haruichi is still lost in who they once were. It takes Haruichi a minute to remember who he is now, another to catch a breath into his burning lungs and open his eyes. Ryosuke is still staring at him, his fingers still warm and reassuring at Haruichi's shoulder.

"You're chasing," Ryosuke says, and his hand lifts away, lets cold air chill in its wake. "You haven't _caught_ anything." He blinks, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and catching Haruichi's breathing into a stutter, and when his fingers brush against the other boy's forehead Haruichi jumps as startled as if he's been shocked. Fingertips pull over his skin, ruffle into his hair, and for just a minute Ryosuke's fingers are curled into a fist around his bangs, pushing his hair aside so they're staring straight at each other with no barrier between them at all.

"Yet," Ryosuke says. His hold lets go, his fingers trail down the bridge of Haruichi's nose, land feather-light on his brother's lips. "Congratulations." His smile pulls a little wider, his touch presses deliberate and heavy for a moment; then his hand is gone, he's turning, he's moving away before Haruichi can recollect words or actions either to call him back.

"Come and get me," Ryosuke calls over his shoulder. He doesn't turn, not entirely, but Haruichi is staring after him, and he's sure that there's a tilt of the other boy's chin, a last sidelong glance before Ryosuke looks away and rounds the corner to disappear.

Haruichi doesn't expect anything. But when he lifts his hand to his mouth, he can feel himself smiling, and the heat in his cheeks feels like hope in his thoughts.


End file.
